


Final Control Room

by isa_belle



Series: Dream smp [4]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Traitor Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Trauma, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, please for the love of god someone give Tommy a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isa_belle/pseuds/isa_belle
Summary: “Tommy what happened to you?”It’s funny how time isn’t linear at all.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: Dream smp [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2068152
Comments: 21
Kudos: 415





	Final Control Room

**Author's Note:**

> Someone give Tommy a hug for the love of god, the closest thing this boy has to a therapist is the amnesiac ghost of his dead brother armed with blue dye, my man needs professional help
> 
> **this is like my most successful fic ever thank you guys so much?? keep commenting you’re all lovely and you quite literally make my day. i really like the way this turned out and im happy you guys did too :D

“Tommy what happened to you?”

Ears ringing, a high pitched and painful thing. Sound fades out. Silence. Silence except that damn ringing, like nails on a chalkboard, nails in his temples. His feet stand in the final control room, today. Today, today, today. He’s with Technoblade. He’s with Wilbur and Tubbo and Eret. There’s a button. There was a button then and there is a button now. “Secret weapon.” Empty chests and names, all of their names. It’s funny how the past and the present can push up so closely against each other. It’s funny how time isn’t linear at all. You always end up in the same place you started because, in reality, you never actually left. 

Eret. Technoblade. _Eret_. A button. A room. Ringing, so much  _ fucking _ ringing. He stands on obsidian floors, surrounded by obsidian walls that lock him in, in, in. Tommy was never claustrophobic before. 

There’s a muffled voice beneath the sharp tinnitus, a deep voice. Phil? No, not Phil. Phil’s not here. Phil wasn’t there for the betrayal. For  _ that _ betrayal. No, Phil’s never been here. Only Wilbur and Tubbo and Fundy and Tommy and  _ Eret. _Eret and his button. Eret and their “down with the revolution, boys” Eret and his “it was never meant to be.”

“Tommy what is this room?” 

Fire burning skin. Dying hurts, even if it doesn’t stick, it hurts. The scent of smoke in the air. Hot panic in their veins, fear like ice and lava all at once. Blindingly hot but so  so terribly cold. Chills down his spine and a pit set deep in the bottom of his stomach. He reached for Tubbo. He reached for Wilbur. It was too late. They were helpless, there was no chance. They were fucked the moment they walked into the room,  _ that damn room _ . That was the start, really. Everything spiraled out and down from there. That’s what happens when you trust people. Every time you trust people. Just buttons and flames and buttons and bombs.  _ And people wonder why he doesn’t sleep at night.  _

“Tommy what happened here?”

_ Technoblade._ It’s today. Tommy is with Technoblade. They’re in L’manburg for supplies. Tommy’s not allowed in L’manburg.  _ It’s today_. Techno’s hand is on his shoulder, heavy and firm. Today. It’s today. The first war is over. Eret is gone, Wilbur is gone, and for Tommy, L’manburg is gone as well. Obsidian walls and cobblestone halls, low muttering, comforting muttering. “Healing takes time, Tommy.” “I’m right here Tommy, it’s alright.” Ringing in his fucking ears, the constant toll of a bell. 

His heart is racing in his chest, he can feel the frantic beat of it hammering uncomfortably against his ribs. He’s got this feeling. This shitty awful terrible feeling, it’s sick and it’s chokes him, steals the breath from his lungs, makes his chest burn with fear,  _horrible_ fear  like needles of acid. 

He needs to get out of this room, this  fucking evil room. He needs to. He needs. Dream.  _ Dream,_ he needs his friend Dream.  _I don’t give a_ fuck _about spirit_. Dream.  _ Give me your armor, Tommy. _ Dream.  _They don’t care about you_. Dream. 

“You don’t need Dream, Tommy. C’mon, breathe.”

Ringing in his ears. L’manburg. Exile. It’s  _today_. Breathe.  _Okay._ Breathe. Tommy can do that. Breathe. Breathe. Tommy  _can’t_ do that. Air goes in his lungs but it doesn’t fill him. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he’s going to suffocate. He’s going to die  _here._ Of course here, the room, the obsidian, the button.  Here. L’manburg, explosions and the sting of death, scorching flames, the smell of ash. 

“You’re not goin’ to die, Tommy.”

_It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy._

His cheeks are wet. When did he start crying? Today. A thousand years ago. It’s all the same. He couldn’t breathe then and he can’t breathe now. “Healing is a process” Sure. Wilbur is gone. Tubbo is gone. L’manburg is gone.  _ Breathe_, Tommy,  _ breathe_. 

_ It’s never my time to die.  _

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone. I’m right here, I’m sorry.”

_ Technoblade_. Withers and skulls. Blood and fireworks. Crossbows and crowns and dying like a hero.  _ Technoblade_. Comfort and shelter. Home and family.  _ Safe._

The coat on his shoulders still smells like Wilbur. He’s still got a scar on his chest from Dream’s arrow, his second death. Same room, same signs, frozen. It’s funny how time isn’t linear at all. His compass,  _his Tubbo_ , warm in his pocket. Phil’s friendship emerald tucked away in his enderchest. The room looks the same. Same obsidian. Same button.  _ Always buttons._ It’s funny. 

“Breathe.”  _ Breathe_. “Breathe.”  _ Breathe_. 

“Okay,” Tommy rasps, Techno rubs his shoulder. “Okay.” He curls into his jacket, tries to go back to before it all went to hell. Shuts his eyes and pretends that it’s not today and it’s not that day either. Pretends he’s in L’manburg and Wilbur is there and he’s alive and he isn’t crazy and angry like he was at the end, he’s smiling. And Tubbo is there and he still loves Tommy and the grass is as green as it was. Pretends he’s a child again, tucked under Phil’s wing. He’s still a child, he thinks.

_ And people wonder why he doesn’t sleep at night.  _

Techno pulls him close and says something Tommy can’t even hear over the ringing. Something soft. Tommy just tries to breathe and stop crying like a fool. He wants to be stronger than this but sometimes it’s so fucking hard and this _goddamn room_ is gonna be the death of him again. 

“I want to leave.” He says, wipes his nose on his sleeve, pulls Wilbur’s jacket closer around his body. 

“Okay,” says Techno. 

And they do. 

He thinks of Phil in his house, a monitor on his ankle. He thinks of Techno protecting him as a kid, putting bandaids on his cuts, of Wilbur wiping his tears. He feels the weight of Techno’s arm over his shoulder. He feels the blue from Ghostbur in his pocket. “It drains sadness.” 

It’s funny how time isn’t linear at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! i dare you to comment!! please im desperate for validation :)
> 
> Byee


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